


Blowing Through You

by fecklessphilanderer



Series: The Arcana Whump [6]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Drowning, Fade to Black, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Hypothermia, Implied Sexual Content, Magical Exhaustion, Minor Injuries, Nudity, POV Second Person, Sexual Tension, Sickfic, Whump, i keep it vague though, really barely part of the story but tagging just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26021635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fecklessphilanderer/pseuds/fecklessphilanderer
Summary: As you walk you spot Jaeger perched above a small cave to your right. You can’t help but grin at the bird.Then you stumble into someone.The shock of it makes you reel back, your hands alight with magic as the trees spin around you. You illuminate the face of your assailant—Morga.“I would’ve expected the Countess’s champion to have better reflexes.” She barks.[The Apprentice travels alone with Morga in the South. They begin to become close with the mysterious warrior, but as the tension between them grows, a run in with Lucio and Valdemar leaves the Apprentice injured and exhausted—both physically and magically]
Relationships: Apprentice/Morga (The Arcana), Morga (The Arcana)/Reader
Series: The Arcana Whump [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675759
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	Blowing Through You

The cold of the south blows through you.

You regret leaving Muriel behind in Vesuvia, but it was the only option.

_Sure, could use a big wolf to cuddle._ You think.

Instead it’s just you and the wind, slowly and steadily tracking Morga’s path through the wilderness.

Every once in a while, Jaeger will appear above you, circling to watch your location and then showing you the right direction before disappearing into the distance.

Warmth spells only last so long, and the air only grows colder when you are forced to ditch your horse to manage even harder and rockier terrain. You hope you’ll find her on the return trip, but you make sure to hide the tack and saddle under a clump of bushes so she will be safe.

You continue on foot, finding fresher paths that indicate you are catching up to Morga. Or, more likely, she’s slowing down for you. 

You’ve made your way into a forested area for the day. As you steadily lose the light you try to move faster, trying to keep your eyes peeled for a well-hidden spot to make camp.

As you walk you spot Jaeger perched above a small cave to your right. You can’t help but grin at the bird.

Then you stumble into someone.

The shock of it makes you reel back, your hands alight with magic as the trees spin around you. You illuminate the face of your assailant—

Morga.

She doesn’t look pleased to see you, really more contempt in her expression than anything else as you relax, and the light of your magic goes dark once more.

“I would’ve expected the Countess’s champion to have better reflexes.” She barks.

You shrug, “I’m tired.”

Her face makes a complicated expression that you cannot read before she nods in the direction you saw Jaeger.

“Sleep then, I’ll bring back game.”

You don’t argue, don’t get a chance, you’re too cold and tired to think and she’s already disappearing into the woods.

Jaeger coos at you as you approach, even letting you scritch him under his beak before looking towards the low fire and small stack of wood surrounded by Morga’s furs.

It’s homey. Surprisingly so. Every fur placed carefully; every piece of wood chosen to match the others. You unroll your own blankets and pick a spot that will not disturb the area that you think is Morga’s bed before settling down with a sigh.

You place another piece of wood on the fire and nudge it to light quickly with a shot of magic before laying back and falling off the edge into sleep.

…

Humming, low and rough, pulls you awake. The sky the light colour of pre-sunrise when you squint out at the world. Your cloak feels heavy on your warm limbs. You realize the humming comes from Morga as she works to wrap up chunks of cooked meat before packing them away. She splits half into her pack and half into yours.

You enjoy the moment for what it is. Her face is softened by solitude and the hum in her chest rumbles on—completely unaware of her audience.

With her expression calmed, you can make out the small signs of old laughter lines around her eyes. It makes you wonder how long ago someone made her laugh.

Suddenly you feel you have stumbled into something you shouldn’t have, so instead of allowing her more peace you close your eyes again and visibly shift.

The humming stops.

You open your eyes for the second time that morning to see Morga scowling down at you.

“Good morning.” You say as you sit up.

Looking down at your lap you realize your cloak felt so heavy because there were furs piled atop you as well.

“Thank you,” You peel the furs off yourself and fold them down again for her to pack away. She just grumbles as she takes them, and then hands you one of the wrapped chunks of meat in return.

You devour it as you clean up the rest of your camp.

“We’re falling behind,” Morga says and heads back into the trees. You follow.

To your surprise, as you walk, she doesn’t leave you behind to follow her trail but instead keeps her pace steady and even. It’s still a quick one, but it is one you can keep up with.

You walk in silence for the better part of the morning.

Finally, you’ve had enough of the quiet, so you make an attempt to chat.

“So, you are a talented hunter. Where did you learn?”

She gives you a sharp appraising look from a few meters ahead.

“Where did you learn magic magician?” She turns the question back on you.

“My family I assume, but more recently my teacher was another Magician named Asra. A dear friend from another life.” Your past was a mystery to you, even Asra was careful not to say too much. But you had intuited most of the truth by now.

“Another life?” From her tone you can tell you’ve gripped her attention, “we only have one life, I would recommend accepting that these lives are one and the same. Running away from your past is folly.” She isn’t looking back at you, but you can guess there’s a goat legged man she’s thinking of.

“I mean it quite literally,” she looks back at you now, confusion plain in her grey eyes.

There’s a moment where you decide whether the whole truth is useful right now or worth the energy of discussing.

“Amnesiac.”

You decide against it.

Her eyes widen.

“How long have you been living this life then?”

“About three years.”

“And you remember nothing?”

“No.”

“And what of your magic?” She asks as she holds a branch out of your way.

“Had to relearn from scratch.”

She just grunts at that and you continue the walk in silence. When you pause for her to check she’s following the right path she speaks once more. Answering your earlier question.

“My clan. Elders teach the children and so on.”

…

“You want to stop now? We still have at least another hour before the sun sets.”

“We are stopping because we must train you for a fight. We’re catching up with them, probably another week at the most before we run into my son and whatever wicked being accompanies him.” She sneers.

“Train?” You pop a few balls of light into existence, “my magic is quite sharp I assure you.”

In lieu of an answer she races at you, inhumanely fast, and before another word leaves your mouth you’ve hit the ground with a wheeze.

“Obviously not sharp enough,” there’s mirth in her voice as she moves off you and allows you space to stand up and brush yourself off.

You can almost see the ghost of a smile on her face but then it drops off into something more serious.

“My son is without honor, but I trained him well. I promised the Countess I would return her champion in one piece, but I cannot do that if you don’t know how to fight.”

She’s got you there.

“Alright, show me.” You try to mimic her fighting stance, but it just makes her click her tongue and approach you.

Her hands are warm as they adjust your position. You hope she doesn’t spot your blush as she uses her heel to kick your feet further apart.

“Keep loose, knees bent, if you lock up you won’t be able to move as quick.” You shiver as you feel her warm breath on your ear in contrast with the cold weather.

And then the warmth is gone, and she squares up to face you.

…

Every day you go to sleep sore in caves or under the massive roots of trees beside Morga. Steadily you hold your own against her and her expression becomes pleased the more you fight back.

You learn more about her too. The way she talks over the fire at night, how her eyes glint when she spots a rabbit in the brush and gives chase. How she looks when she talks about Lucio—pain clear in her face no matter how hard she tries to hide it. There’s something soft in the way she watches you as you read the cards. You even make her laugh at one point when you trip yourself when trying to spar with her and hit the ground in a messy twist of limbs. Her laugh is rough with disuse but still enamours you.

Finally, as you come to the seventh day since the two of you began to travel together you begin to ascend into the mountains. The cold was biting before but now it tears through you.

As you move up the hill and into a wooded plateau the calm rapport you’d built up with Morga fades with tension. Now that you’ve spent time close with her you can see it. In the pinch of her brown and the energy of her limbs. She was ready for a fight.

You try to keep loose but the anxiety at seeing her preparing makes you jumpy. You nearly fall over when there’s a cry above and Jaeger swoops down from seemingly nowhere.

Morga and he make intense eye contact before he lifts off her arm and swirls into the air once again.

“y/n, stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Montag is the only demon up ahead. I’ll flush him back to you and you can use your magic to trap him.”

You nod.

With the plan set she takes off into the woods once more and you begin spinning the spell for an unbreakable net.

A twig snaps behind you.

You whirl around.

There’s nothing but dead trees. However, you sense something dark on the edges of your magic.

You face the direction that Morga went once again and continue your work.

You barely get much further when you see a humanoid form in the corner of your eye.

Your head snaps up.

Valdemar.

They tilt their head and pull down their mask to reveal a sharp smile.

“Hello again magician.”

You feel the surge of darkness no longer creeping but moving so quickly towards you it is all you can do to take off running.

You vault over dead trees and weave through the trunks to stay ahead of the stinking death that seems to emanate from Valdemar. As you run you slide on the ground which grows increasingly snowy as you follow Morga’s path. You can hear the cry of Jaeger ahead.

You burst through the trees into an open area. All around you walls of rock and ice rise around the clash of weapons.

Morga and Lucio fight at the edge of an icy pool, framed by the looming shadow of a frozen waterfall.

“Give up Montag!” They whirl again and Morga looks to be winning.

Lucio lets out a near inhuman growl, gold arm glinting as he snatches her spear and it shatters.

Then that gold fist shoots out and catches her in the sternum, throwing her to the ground.

You follow your instinct, and in the seconds that you watch the fight turn in Lucio’s favour you barrel forwards and tackle him. The force of it lands you two onto the ice, sliding more than six meters away from Morga.

She starts to bound after you but stops short as the trees creak and the stench of death grows.

Valdemar is almost lazy as they approach. At ease in their element.

You’re winded as Lucio flips over and kicks you away from him, your shoulder stinging when you hit the hard ice.

“Having trouble Lucio?” Valdemar grins and Lucio has the decency to sweat a little.

“Coward!” Morga yells.

“We only need one heart Lucio, you choose. I’d like to get back to my lab in Vesuvia” Valdemar stalks the edge of the ice.

Lucio eyes you and then Morga.

“Haha! My son the coward does not have the power to take my heart from me!”

Lucio sneers and turns away from you. He flexes his gold fingers and approaches Morga with his boots clacking on the ice.

_No. No. No._

This is not how this is supposed to go.

You feel the warmth spells at your fingertips and pull them away from you, firing straight at Lucio’s back and burning a hole through his clothes right down to the skin.

He turns to face you again.

“Hmmm, this magician is more than they seem.” Valdemar seems to look right through you.

“We’ll use them then, it looks like someone is finally more powerful than you _mother._ ” He spits the word like it’s a curse, and yet there’s a glint of relief in his eyes as he and Valdemar both descend on you.

You scramble back, sliding on the ice until you hit the sharp wall of the unmoving waterfall. You can sense the water somewhere deep underneath the ice.

All you can see is Lucio’s shiny hand, the sharp fingers.

“Montag! Don’t!” Morga is still on the shore, held back by the smog of death that surrounds Valdemar.

Asra always said magic is like a well, you only have so much before it dries out. Only can take so much without needing to give in return.

You feel the water deep underneath the falls. Long still. Waiting for someone to wake it up.

_Crack._

Even you flinch at the sharp sound.

Lucio glances up and down nervously.

“Do it.” He looks between Valdemar and you before reaching back with his gold hand and you curl in on yourself in an attempt to protect your chest.

Then he plunges forward, and you feel the ghost of his sharp fingers touch your sternum before there’s another crack and a gushing and you are drenched in icy waters.

There’s an inhuman howling, Lucio yells and you hear your own as you are swept away in a massive plume of icy waters released by your magic. 

You feel sucked dry by the power it took to thaw it so quickly, but your work is only half done. You can still sense the presence of Valdemar and Lucio near you. You summon up all the power you can muster and drain in dry. Using the force of the waters you push the flow forwards to wash them away.

Things start to go spotty.

You don’t feel cold anymore, just numb. Lucio and Valdemar disappear from your senses but so does everything else.

You’ve felt this before, your body is heavy and your thoughts difficult to string together.

Magical exhaustion.

It had happened before when Asra was re-teaching you magic, but this was so much worse.

The cold was a blessing and a curse, it made it hard to move and yet kept you wakeful enough to think.

_Morga._

The water is carrying you away, but her presence doesn’t change. You cling to it.

It makes you feel sick but one final push of magic using Morga’s presence as a tether is all it takes to push you to the surface.

“Y/n!” There are hands heaving you up by the armpits and for a moment they feel so hot you imagine the magic metal of Lucio’s arm. You try to squirm away; you can barely see it’s so bright.

“It’s me! Y/n.”

Morga.

Her face is uncharacteristically distressed when she comes into view. You barely feel the drag of the ground on your back as she tugs you out of the flow.

“What were you thinking!”

“I’m tired.” Your vision darkens.

“Y/n, y/n I need you to stay awake.” Morga has you in her arms now, she’s carrying you. Her makeup is running in black rivulets down her face.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Y/n! Y/n.”

…

You wake up to pain, shooting pain that make you moan.

“You’re alright.” You recognize the rumbled of Morga’s voice before you open your eyes.

“Hurts.”

“It’s just the circulation coming back.”

You open your eyes to see Morga is barely clothed, sat close to the fire as she lays out your socks on a rock.

The cave you’re in isn’t unlike the others you’d found on your journey—cosy.

You flush when you realize all your other clothes hang around the cave to dry. Your lower half haphazardly covered with a fur. You reach out to pull it tighter to you, but your motor control is non-existent from the mixture of cold limbs and magical exhaustion.

“Hypothermia is not a time for modesty.” Morga picks up on your discomfort and averts her eyes to stare into the fire.

“You’re right. Thank you.” A shiver runs through you as you start to feel the cold again.

It burns. Thinking hurts.

“Here,” Morga places more furs over you, they’re warm from the fire. Her fingers just barely brush your shoulders and yet that barest contact feels like a burn.

“y’r warm.” The mumble slips past your lips without your control. Your whole body feels out of your control right now.

“That’s not a shocking revelation,” she replies as she probes the fire.

You watch her muscular arms move as she places another piece of wood down. Her face looks almost strange. Bare of makeup she seems softer and yet so much sharper now you can see the full definition of her cheekbones.

Her eyes meet yours, but your addled brain doesn’t have the decency to pretend you weren’t looking.

Her expression darkens into something hungry. Like a spark of electricity is growing brighter and brighter the longer you meet her eye. You can feel the heat curl in your belly. 

Then you are wracked by another bout of shivering and the moment passes.

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask.

“Did you not just say I was warm?”

“Yes, but I’m…” you pause as the words escape you, “I’m hogging the furs.”

“Do not worry for me. Sleep.”

“Join me.”

She pauses, giving you an appraising look. Embarrassment runs through you and you cannot help but glance away while she analyzes you.

“You… want me to?”

You look back up to find her face has pinked, just slightly. Now that you’re looking you think you might be imagining it.

You nod dumbly.

For a moment you think she will do nothing, or perhaps leave to hunt.

Instead, she carefully kneels. Approaching slow, as one would a spooked animal—waiting for you to deny her.

Then she peels back the furs and slides underneath them.

She lays stiffly at your side, but the burning warmth of her body is a soothing balm. Embarrassment out the window you take the chance and scoot closer to her, pressing your bare skin to her side with a contented sigh.

“Sleep,” she commands while worming an arm around you.

You obey.

…

Your pleasantly warm when you wake up to the sound of humming. Unlike the other times you can feel the rumble of sound against your back.

Your eyes snap open, the cave walls seem to shift a little as you look around to spot Morga. Only when you feel her warm hand on your hip do you realize why you feel so warm. You can feel her bare chest pressed flush against your back.

You shift in her arms, and the humming rumble falters.

“Don’t stop,” your words slur slightly.

There’s a warm hand on your forehead, while the other rubs circles into your hip.

“What ails you Magician? You sound drunk, you feel warm.”

“Magic exhaustion…’s hard to think.”

She scoffs, “perhaps it was thawing a waterfall that’s been frozen the last century?”

You hum and turn around to face her under the furs. She does not shift away as you cling to her, wrapping your arms around her neck to feel her smooth hair on your fingertips.

“Hmm, this is nice, but I cannot carry you all the way to Vesuvia. How do we fix this?”

You do not reply, enamoured with entwining your legs with hers.

“Y/n,” there’s a rough pinch on your hip that pulls you back to focus, “how do we heal you?”

“I need… a well—have to replenish.”

“I assume it’s not a literal well.”

“Well of magic, need power. Or I’ll be like this…” you trail off as you try to reach out with your magic, to feel for a direction.

You are rewarded with a sudden pulse of pain through your skull.

You grit your teeth as it throbs.

“Shh… you’re okay.” Morga’s thumbs rub at your temples while you ride out the wave.

Once it subsides you slump from relief. But then Morga starts to pull away.

You panic as her warmth leaves you, reaching out with dull fingers that cannot find purchase on her body.

“Don’t leave me,” you’re close to tears as you speak. More so you feel like you could cry from frustration— you can barely string a rational idea together.

“You’re fine. I’ll return shortly.” She adds another log to the fire and smoothes the fur over your shoulders before walking away.

Alone you feel the sting of rejection. You tug the furs up to cover your face as your headache returns with the morning light.

You feel a few tears slip out as you wait and listen for the sound of footsteps. But there is only silence. You’re not sure how long it’s been. Time seems foggy.

Finally, you hear footsteps in snow.

“Y/n?” The furs are tugged down, and you watch as Morga disrobes once more and joins you.

This time when she slides under the furs you cling quickly to her, pressing a wet cheek to her collarbone.

She wraps her arms around you and holds you while you listen to her slow and steady heartbeat.

“I’ve found you a well, this is your kind of magic I believe?”

There’s a clang of metal as she tugs something from behind her to present to you.

A golden arm.

“Lucio!”

“Do not worry, Montag was no longer attached to it. I believe your river swept it off him. Will this suffice?”

You touch the metal and feel the spark of magic underneath your fingertips. It’s somehow familiar to you. Perhaps Asra or yourself had some hand in creating it?

You pull every last bit of energy from it.

You hadn’t realized how cold you still are until the warmth of magic flowed through your veins once more. Like the lights were re-lit and you could finally see again.

Every point of contact with Morga burns bright. You can feel her vast aura mingling with your own.

And now, you truly feel how sore your body is. Every muscle burns after the incessant shivering from the night before.

You let out a moan as you drain the arm, now just a prosthetic with no magical qualities.

“Y/n?”

You open your eyes, which you hadn’t realized were closed, to look into Morga’s.

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad this tool found some worthwhile use,” she tosses the arm over her shoulder with a loud clang.

Her arms around you are strong, her breath calming you as you take stock of your own condition.

“I don’t think I can travel today.”

“I agree, you would be far too slow if we left now.”

“Tomorrow though, we’ll have to move fast to beat them back to Vesuvia.”

Morga scowls.

“We must hunt them further. We came so close y/n.”

“And how well that went,” you gesture to the cave around you.

“I can’t say I mind,” Morga shifts her bare thigh and your face grows hot.

“I—We will have an easier time separating Lucio from the courtiers in Vesuvia, out here we’ll never get him alone. Plus, my magic needs some time to recover. I won’t be of any use to you in another fight.”

She scowls at that. You take a page from her own book as she thinks and begin running a gentle hand along her side. When she doesn’t move away you let your hand slide further and further until you feel the muscle of her thigh.

“Perhaps you are correct. However, I do not know the city very well.”

“Morga I know that place the way you know the wilds. I won’t abandon you.”

She stares up at the ceiling and hums, a small smile gracing her face.

“We’ll leave at sunrise. Maybe we can find my horse.” You offer.

She nods and then turns to look at you.

When she meets your gaze there’s a spark of energy, now you can sense her aura—flushed bright— as your eyes lock and the same heat you felt the night before comes back tenfold.

“In the meantime…” Her voice is a rough whisper.

“In, In the meantime?” She shifts her thigh again, this time not to tease, this time it’s with purpose. A question.

“oh—OH, yes.”

...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks so much for reading. I've wanted to write a piece for Morga for a while now- this is probably more tame that some of the other whump scenarios I've worked with in this series but I think it's because I got so wrapped up in imaging how m/c and Morga romance would even work. Nonetheless, i still felt this fic should stay part of the series.   
> Thanks so much for reading and let me know what you think!


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